


fumble through the jitterbug

by kathalcyon



Category: The Like
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathalcyon/pseuds/kathalcyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tennessee is keeping track of the times Z has ditched her to do something with Ryan.</i></p><p>A story about high school and misunderstandings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fumble through the jitterbug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glittertorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittertorn/gifts).



> Thanks to the usual suspects for beta. Title from "Massive Nights" by The Hold Steady.
> 
> For glittertorn: I hope you like it almost as much as I liked writing it!

"Sorry, Tenn, but I can't tonight," Z says cheerily, snapping her gum. "Ryan and I have plans. We'll catch up soon though, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Tennessee says. She doesn't have time to say anything else before Z rushes off. Tennessee tries to track her down the hallway, but Z's short, and quickly obscured by the mass of other students in the hallway.

* * *

Tennessee is keeping track of the times Z has ditched her to do something with Ryan. She didn't mean to - it makes her feel like a stalker if she thinks about it too hard - but it started out harmless, she's pretty sure. It would have stayed harmless, except for the sheer volume of times Z has been too busy with Ryan to do something with Tennessee.

It's been two months since Z called Tennessee and couldn't shut up about the awesome new guy in her English class, and so far Z has turned down plans with Tennessee seventeen times in favour of doing something with Ryan - and that's not counting the eleven times Z couldn't hang out because of urgent homework that Tennessee is certain would not have been urgent if Z wasn't spending all her time having deep discussions with Ryan instead of keeping her regular Thursday night study sessions with Tennessee.

(Z has always called them "study dates," ever since they started them in ninth grade, but Tennessee never has. She doesn't want anyone getting the wrong idea.)

"Z doesn't like me anymore," Tennessee says mournfully to Charlotte, who has so far been very patient with Tennesee's mournful phone calls about Z. Tennessee has known Charlotte a long time, knows she's pushing her luck with Charlotte's patience, but she can't seem to stop herself from talking about it every time they're on the phone.

"Z likes you fine," Charlotte says during their weekly phone call, for the twenty-third time since Tennessee started complaining about Z, two weeks (and three ditchings) after Z met Ryan. (Tennessee can't stop herself from obsessively cataloguing everything about Z. She hasn't told anyone, not even Charlotte, who is her oldest friend. Tennessee is pretty sure she's a crazy person.) "She's allowed to have other friends," Charlotte continues. "You have other friends."

"She's allowed to have other friends in addition to me, not _instead_ of me," Tennessee counters. "And I mostly have you, and you live too far away to hang out with."

"Maybe you should be making other friends at school then," Charlotte says sensibly.

"Maybe." Tennessee doesn't really want other friends, she wants to have study dates - sessions - with Z, and she wants to be the person Z goes to concerts with, and she wants to have sleepovers and steal shots of whiskey after parents have gone to bed.

But Z wants to hang out with Ryan all the time, and Tennessee definitely _doesn't_ want to spend her senior year friendless. "I'll try," she tells Charlotte.

"Good girl," Charlotte says smugly, because Charlotte can be a condescending bitch sometimes. "Talk to you next Saturday."

* * *

Tennessee does try. She strikes up a conversation with Annie and Laena in band class, and with Greta in history, and with Spencer in Algebra. It's nice, in a way. Tennessee has spent the past couple years so wrapped up in her friendship with Z that she hasn't paid much attention to the other people around who are nice and seem reasonably cool: Annie says outrageous things in a hilariously aloof tone all the time, and Laena knows all of the gossip about their teachers. Greta is the best to share fashion tips with, and Spencer is not just conveniently smart at math, but also a fellow drummer - and one who doesn't think it's weird that Tennessee is a _girl_ drummer.

It's uncomfortable to realise that she could have been friends with these people for a while now, if she hadn't been so single-minded, but Tennessee tries not to think about that, in favour of being grateful she can have lunch with Annie and Laena, go shopping with Greta, study with Spencer. She knows Charlotte will be happy - Charlotte has never exactly approved of Z, although she has mostly stopped mentioning it.

It's not the same, exactly, but it's better than nothing.

* * *

Thursday morning, Z catches Tennessee by the elbow before homeroom. "Hey, we should do something tonight," she says.

"What's Ryan doing?" Tennessee asks. She wants to be vicious with her words, but she can't, so she settles for deliberately not smiling. Even that is sort of difficult. She's missed Z.

"His mom's in town, he's having dinner with her," Z says, frowning a little with her eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Not really," Tennessee says, and "Sorry, I have plans too. Greta and I are going thrifting," and, before Z can say anything, "The bell's going to ring, gotta go!"

Tennessee doesn't pay any attention to the announcements in homeroom, has to be called on three times before she notices their teacher is taking attendance. She's busy not thinking about Z's hand on her arm, and the look on Z's face when she turned her down.

* * *

Tennessee continues to not think about it for most of the day, focusing very intently on more important things, like algebra and history and the selection of size-eight shoes in the first store Greta takes her to.

"These ones," Greta says, practically thrusting a pair into Tennessee's hand. "They're you, I swear."

Tennessee looks dubiously at the shoes, but sits down on the floor to pull her boots off and lace them up. "I don't know," she says.

"Not with jeans," Greta tells her definitively. Greta has a lot of opinions, which Tennessee had not expected from the full skirts and white lace that make up most of Greta's wardrobe. "Come on, we need to find you a dress to go with them." She takes Tennessee's hand and starts pulling her towards the racks of dresses.

"I don't think I really need a new dress," Tennessee says with a frown.

Greta looks incredulous. "You always need a new dress," she says with certainty. "You're coming to the party tomorrow night aren't you?"

Tennessee is not going to the party tomorrow night, as far as she knows. She only knows about the party at all because she overheard some people talking about it during chemistry lab. "Probably not. I hadn't really decided yet," she prevaricates. It sounds better than 'I wasn't invited.'

"You have to!" Greta cries. Her voice is almost overpowering in the tiny, crowded shop. "It's going to be awesome, everyone will be there, come on."

"Maybe," Tennessee allows.

"Here, try this on," Greta says, throwing a dress at her.

* * *

The dress that Greta picked out - the sixth dress out of eight she'd made Tennessee try on - has a high neck and a demure Peter Pan collar. Tennessee's grandmother regularly wears tops that are more revealing, but it's also very short, and even thick white tights can't help her general feeling of discomfort. The whole look is awfully retro, especially paired with the black and white saddle shoes Greta had been so insistent about, and Tennessee would unequivocally love it on someone else, but wearing it, the outfit just seems silly.

She's uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and sticking pretty close to Annie and Laena ("Are you going to that party tonight?" she asked at lunch, poking a fork into her salad, and Anne said "Yeah, you're coming with, right?" and Tennessee breathed out a little heavily), because even though she recognises at least four-fifths of the people here, she's never really been good at talking to, well, most people.

Greta promised she'd see Tennessee here, though, and Tennessee knows Charlotte is going to be proud of her when they talk tomorrow, so she's going to stick it out as long as possible. So she feels a little awkward - Tennessee usually feels a little awkward, just in more familiar situations for the most part.

It's easier when she's holding a red plastic cup half-filled with beer; less because she wants to drink it - it's yeasty-sour and cheap - and more because it's something to do with her hands. Tennessee's taking tiny half-sips, nodding along to one of Laena's stories about her crazy violin teacher, when she starts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder.

She's expecting Greta, and turns with a deliberate grin that she quickly loses when -

"Hey," Z says, smiling a little, tentative. She's wearing a blue dress and expertly applied eyeliner (Tennessee hasn't worn any makeup but lipstick since last year and the twenty-third time she stabbed herself in the eye with an applicator). She must have just gotten a haircut, too, because when Tennessee saw her yesterday her hair was still shoulder-length and wavy and now it's shorter and lighter and more severe.

Z looks really good, but then, Z always looks really good. Tennessee's been used to it for ages, but now she feels dowdy and costumed in her too-short skirt.

"I didn't know you were going to be here. You look pretty," Z says, still smiling strangely, and then, gesturing to the skinny guy a step behind, "You know Ryan, right?"

Tennessee doesn't know Ryan, is the thing. She's spent months now cataloguing the ways this guy has ruined her life, and she's never even talked to him, and now he's waving at her, listening to her have the most stilted conversation she's ever had with her best friend, at least since the first time since Z sat down across from her in the cafeteria, four years ago now, and said "oh my god, I heard you're a drummer, what do you think about Charlie Watts?"

"I heard you're a drummer," Ryan says.

Tennessee blinks, and says "Yep," and spends a moment eyeing Ryan warily. He doesn't notice, or at least doesn't mind, just matches her gaze silently till Z says "Tenn, hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

"We are talking," Tennessee says pettily.

"No, I mean." Z gestures around them, to Ryan standing patiently, Laena and Annie looking curious, a roomful of people who would all be able to hear them if they happened to all stop talking at the same time. "Can we just talk in private for a second?"

"Sure," Tennessee says. Part of her really wants to say no, to see what would happen, to pretend that she has some control over this situation, but the fact is that she doesn't, and never really does when Z is involved.

Z apparently knows where she's going, drags Tennessee through a room and a hall and another room until they reach a set of half-open glass sliding doors, and pulls Tennessee outside into a green, shady backyard.

It's raining just a tiny bit, drizzling really, or even just misting. But Z has never cared about the weather.

"Tenn," Z says.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Tennessee blurts out, and then blushes hard. "I mean - just tell me if you don't want to be friends anymore, okay, I can take it."

"No," Z says, which isn't really any sort of meaningful answer. "I don't want to break up with you."

"Don't make fun of me." Tennessee flushes. This is not going quite how she expected; when she imagined herself confronting Z, the Tennessee in her head had been cool and contained and had said witty things that weren't stupid.

"I'm not," Z says. "I just. I thought we might need some time apart."

"It has nothing to do with us, if you wanted to spend more time with your boyfriend," Tennessee says. She wants to be furious, but mostly she just feels sad. She wants to be done, wants to go inside and pretend this didn't happen.

Z hasn't let go of Tennessee's arm, and her grip tightens a little, like she knows what Tennessee is thinking, knows that Tennessee just wants to get away. "Ryan isn't my boyfriend," she says. "It's not like that at all."

"What's it like, then?" Tennessee asks, scanning Z's face. Z has little dark trails of makeup running down her face, and her expression is uncharacteristically serious, but she looks - bright, like she never looks at anyone else, like she usually looks at Tennessee, and - "Oh," Tennessee says.

"What 'oh?'" Z asks.

Tennessee takes a step closer, right into Z's personal space, but Z just lets her in. Z has always let her in. "I don't want any more time apart," she says, a little wildly. "I want to be with you _all the time._ " It's true, it's always been true, and for the first time, Tennessee knows why.

Z opens her mouth to say something, but Tennessee doesn't want to hear it. She thinks _in for a penny, in for a pound,_ which her grandmother says all the time and which Tennessee really understands for the first time.

Tennessee leans in and kisses Z.

Z's hand slides up Tennessee's arm, her mouth opens under Tennessee's, and she kisses _back_. Tennessee closes her eyes, just for a second, and then pulls off. "Oh my lord," she says. "Really?"

"Really," Z confirms, because she's always understood Tennessee, even when no one else has. _That's one,_ Tennessee thinks, and then Z pulls her in for kiss number two.


End file.
